


The first time

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: Drarry Dump [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did I ever tell you about the time we met?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The first time

Did I ever tell you about the time we met?

Not that time in Madame Maulkins, this was much, much later..

It was after the dust had settled from the war. When I no longer felt like there was a vice like grip pinching my shoulder blades and he no longer felt obligated to save the world.  It was inevitable that I would spend at least a minor amount of time in Azkaban; I accepted this fate, welcomed it even. His voice at my trial lessened my time, of this I am certain.  My mother had told me what she’d done that day in the forest, I supposed in many ways it was his way of once again leveling the playing field.

  
But it wasn’t this time either..

It took me time to adjust after life in prison, I was thankful my family’s fortune wasn’t confiscated by the ministry, I would have rather returned to prison than be forced into employment.  It started innocent enough, snarky banter that made me feel much more like myself than I had in years.  I don’t know how he did it, or when it happened but somewhere along the way he made me love him.

But it wasn’t here either..

We’ve had our ups and we’ve had our downs in our time together, sometimes it feels like multiple lifetimes.  My birthday was the single most painful thing I’ve experienced to date.  There is a part of me that never wants to live to see another, I would never tell him this; I couldn’t take the look in his eyes if I did.  I was certainly an arsehole, but he was not innocent.  I can’t help but wonder if I made him that way. I don’t ever want to find out.  We celebrated his birthday as we should have mine, I’d like to think it was mildly healing for us both.

But it wasn’t here either..

He drags me to the most insane destinations.  I’ve seen a hotel room in Rio, and am  _very_  familiar with the inside of a particular cab of the London Eye.  I’ve been drunk in a Las Vegas casino, and straddled in the back of a New York City cab.  I’ve heard mention of Fiji and there is a particular mountain top that I plan on visiting someday. All of these places I would have never seen without him. He forces me to live, and the funny thing is, I want to.

But it’s not here either..

I’ve embraced things like muggle mobile phones and programs on the talking telly box like Doctor Who.  I have a secret obsession with his laptop; I spend many hours in front of it when he slumbers.  Sometimes he’ll wake up and call me back to bed, and when I slide between the sheets with him I know that I fit. That I am exactly where I want to be. That I am home.

But it’s not here either..

I cannot put a finger on a precise moment of our life together, because to do so would be acknowledging that one was better than the next.  He makes me who I am by being who he is.  My enemy, my rival, my lover.  I’ve met him so many times I cannot count the ways any longer.  I know him better than I know myself and somehow each time I meet him is like the first time, all over again.  I would be content in meeting him again and again, for the rest of my days. 

It’s yesterday, it’s now, it’s next week..


End file.
